Chapter 15
Megan
I’m up when Mason is—four a.m. sharp. He’s still half asleep, sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing his eyes, while I’m pacing the bathroom like a kid on Christmas morning. I barely slept last night. I’ve been waiting for this day for two weeks.
I did the research, read every article, circled the date on my calendar. Today should be the day. Maybe the line will be faint, but it should be there.
When I step out of the bathroom, Mason’s waiting, elbows on his knees, eyes heavy but soft. “What’s it say?”
“You have to give it three minutes.” I sit beside him, the test still face down in the wrapper so I don’t peek early.
He chuckles quietly. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Why? This is what we want, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, picking at the corner of the wrapper. “I just…don’t know. I have a weird feeling.”
He reaches over, threading his fingers through mine. “Hey. Whatever it says is fine. Right?”
I nod, even though I can’t quite swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah. But I hope it’s positive.”
“Me too. But if it’s not, it just wasn’t meant to happen yet.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. I know he’s just trying to prepare me, but I can’t shake the hope sitting heavy in my chest.
The timer dings softly on my phone. I flip the test over. We both lean closer.
There’s only one line.
“Oh.”
“It’s okay,” he says quickly, rubbing my back, like that’ll somehow stop the sting in my chest.
“Yeah,” I manage.
But it’s not okay—not right now. I really thought it would be positive. I tracked everything. Every symptom, every day. I even calculated what month I’d be due if it worked on the first try. Maybe my app was wrong. Maybe I was off by a few days.
“Maybe I’ll test again tomorrow,” I whisper. “Maybe my levels aren’t high enough yet to detect.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He presses a kiss to my forehead before standing. “You’ll drive yourself crazy if you keep staring at it though.”
I smile weakly. “I already am.”
He’s quiet, but he takes it from me and sets it aside. “Come give me a hug,” he says, standing in front of me. I stand and he hugs me tight, arms engulfing me around my head. I don’t cry; it feels silly to cry on the first try. So I don’t.
He leaves for work a few minutes later, utility belt slung over his shoulder, coffee in hand. “Have a good day, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”
“Be safe,” I say from the kitchen, and the door clicks shut behind him, the house now feeling too quiet.
I brush my hair. I remind myself that Mason’s right—we have time. We’re young. We’re new to this. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.
Still, I can’t help but picture a positive test. A tiny heartbeat. A due date that might have fallen at the end of the school year,giving me a whole summer at home. But it’ll work out however it’s supposed to.
* * *
When I get home that afternoon, the house smells faintly like leftover coffee and quiet—like the morning never fully left. I drop my bag on the counter, slip off my shoes, and tie my hair up, already feeling the weight of the day loosening from my shoulders.
